


Ataraxia

by AngeK15



Category: Lunar Chronicles - Marissa Meyer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Greece, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-24 03:52:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7492695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngeK15/pseuds/AngeK15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He must have been struck with Eros' golden arrow. That was the only reason he couldn't get rid of the girl with the golden hair and the bright blue eyes out of his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ataraxia

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I'm not an expert in Greek Mythology, I just have a passion for it. Any mistakes of accuracy are my own. Hope you enjoy~
> 
> Note: Main character's names have stayed the same for familiarities sake, but others have changed just to make it sound more Ancient Greek. You should be able to recognize the characters whose name's I've changed.

 

"Give me wings and I will fly into the topmost airs to gather fresh songs in the clouds. In the midst of the vapours and the fleecy snow"

\- The Tragedies of Euripides, Vol. 1

_Chapter One._

_The Pythian Games_

* * *

It was the Pythian games.

The sounds of the festivities were all that Thorne was able to hear, as well as the crackling of the sacrificial fire burning in the temple of Apollo nearby.

It was the early morning, and he could feel the heat on his back. Evidently, the sun god was happy with the sacrifices and offerings dedicated to him, with the way the sun shone so brightly and strongly.

He was always excited for the festivals, with the celebrations, the banquet, and the presence of women.

He walked the cobblestone path that let to the temple. He was carrying a basket full of his sacrificial items. There was a bunch of laurel leaves, and hyacinth flowers. His mother had made golden honey cakes the night before, as well, half for Apollo, and the other for the feast later on.

He made his way to the altar, where the priestesses and the maidens came out to accept everyone's offerings.

There was a small gathering of people, and as he got closer he could smell the smokiness of the oil fire and the smell of the burnt plants and food that people had thrown into it. He could hear the unearthly sound of the priestesses singing hymns and people muttering prayers.

Thorne edged closer to the sacrificial fire, and he caught the eye of a girl, maybe a priestess or a temple maiden with the longest, most brightest blonde hair he'd ever seen.

With a small smile on her face, she came towards him.

"Apollo thanks you for your offering," She said, slowly taking his basket off his arm.

She was wearing a plain white chiton, pinned at her shoulders, with a piece of twine tied around her waist. Her hair was worn down, unlike most of the other women, who had their hair pulled up, cross-tied with golden ribbons and strips of fabric.

Thorne's eyes followed the girl as she made her way. He had never seen a person with such light hair before. She didn't even look Greek, with her pale skin and startlingly blue eyes. A slender arm pulled out the bunch of bay leaves, and threw them into the grates of the sacrificial fire in the podium.

She threw in the hyacinth, then put the honey cakes in a votive deposit for Apollo to take when he needed it.

Later on, an animal sacrifice would be made, and the offal would be thrown in fire, as the last rite and offering to Apollo that day

Slowly, she turned around and returned the basket to him.

"Thank you," He said.

The girl just brushed her hair behind her ear, and walked off to attend to the next offering.

He tore his eyes away from the girl. He had never seen someone who looked so foreign. Thorne had to wonder whether that girl had godly blood in her. Maybe the blood of Apollo, even, by how her hair resembled the sun and her eyes the sky on a clear day.

He started walking away from the temple and banished the girl from his mind. She was probably a priestess, vowed to maidenhood, and worship only to Apollo.

There were plenty of other girls to have his eye on today.

* * *

He was competing in the chariot races. There was no official monetary prize, but if he won, he'd be the talk of the village for weeks.

And he knew he would win. He had raced this exact hippodrome – the stadium used for horse and chariot racing – since he knew what chariot racing was. And he was sure he had the best racing horse today.

Dimitrios was the owner of the horse, and he came from Thessaloniki. He had never raced with this owner before, nor had he even seen the horse that he was racing, but he knew that Thessalian horses were the best for chariot races, and something told him that this horse would be a winning one.

And he'd better win, because Dimitrios was offering two-hundred drachmas if he did.

He made his way to the stables, looking for the horse-owner. He found the short, aging man, brushing a Thessalian horse.

He cleared his throat behind him, and he turned, startled.

"Sorry," Thorne said.

Dimitrios looked at him. "Quite all right," He said. "Are you the rider? I thought you wouldn't show."

Thorne shrugged. "Well, I'm here."

Dimitrios looked at him skeptically. "That you are."

Throne looked past him to the horse. It looked strong and swift. It certainly looked like a winning horse.

He looked back to Dimitrios. "If I win-"

"The drachmas will be yours. All two-hundred of them." To make his point, he rummaged in his pocket and brought out a woolen drawstring pouch and opened it. Thorne could see the golden coins nestled at the top. His fingers itched to take it, but he forced them down to his side. He wasn't going to fall back into that old habit again.

"Perfect," He said casually.

"She's a fine beast," Dimitrios said, nodding towards the horse.

"Does she have a name?"

"Rapuncium,"

"Strange name," Thorne commented.

"My daughter named her. She's a strange person."

Thorne nodded. He sat down on a bale of hay, and pulled a black woolen cloak out of his sack he was carrying on his shoulder. He clasped the cloak around his neck, to protect from the harsh winds that would undoubtedly come his way during the race. Next, he tied tan sandals on his feet.

Dimitrios handed him a helmet with a plumage of grey feathers and the sun with its rays embossed on the sides.

"This is nice," Thorne commented.

"One of the blacksmiths back at Thessaloniki made it." Dimitrios said. "A woman, if you can believe it."

"A woman?" Thorne pondered. "Who in their right mind would let a woman-?"

"Blessed by Hephaestus, she is. You wouldn't believe the work she's put out. Better than any you or I've ever seen."

Thorne looked at the helmet again, wondering how a woman could have made something so intricately designed. "She must have had a man to help her out,"

Dimitrios just shrugged. "I've seen her work the chisel with my own eyes, but if you don't want to believe me..."

He made a motion as if to take the helmet back, but Thorne held onto it like a child would hold onto a toy.

Dimitrios laughed. "That's what I thought."

Thorne put the helmet on, checking the fit. He tied the ribbon around his chin.

There was something right above his eye. Thorne reached up to move it out of the way, figuring it was just a branch that had got stuck there, but when it wouldn't move, he looked at it closer and saw that it was it was a mirror.

"What is-?"

"To see if anyone's behind you. It'll give you an advantage the other racers don't have,"

Thorne was stunned. "Who did you say this blacksmith was?"

Dimitrios laughed. "I'm not sure. She didn't parade her identity around."

Thorne jumped at the sound of a brass horn, the warning that the race was about to start.

"You'd better go," Dimitrios said. "And don't forget about your payment." He said as a warning, a reminder, that he'd better win.

Thorne nodded, grabbing the horse by the reins and led it out into the hippodrome. There were so many people at the stands, chattering away, filling his ears with the drone of a thousand voices. This is what he was born for.

He made his way to where all the other racers were waiting for call-out. He was the last one they were all waiting for, and he climbed onto his chariot, and straddled the horse into its leather harness. He held onto the reins tightly.

The horn blared, and Thorne wasted no time in getting the chariot moving. He tuned out everything around him, only focusing on his horse and the race.

He urged the horse on, and he saw two chariots already get flipped, a horse braying in despair. Thorne ignored it, and kept on going. There was a chariot not too far ahead of him, and he could easily catch up. Second place was a decent position, but not if there was money involved, and money was his main reason for entering the race in the first place.

But he had to be strategic about it. He couldn't overtake the chariot at the turn coming up. It was dangerous, and would end in failure. He'd seen too many horses or riders end up dead that way because they were too over-confident, or too new to know better.

So, he slowed down for the turn, the horse obeying his command. And then he was out of the turn and it was as if the horse could hear his thoughts. It sped up without him even needing to instruct it, and he was neck and neck with the chariot in front of him. There was still a little ways to go, and the horse was flying past.

He crossed the finish line, and he won the race.

He pulled on the reins, and Rapuncium stopped. He could hear cheers of thousands of people, and he took off his helmet, getting out of his chariot.

He looked in his mirror, at his opponent steadying his horse. He was tall and hulking, with fierce green eyes and brown hair, but he didn't look upset.

He got out of his chariot and made his way to Thorne, extending his hand out for a shake. Thorne took it amicably.

There was something admirable about a man who could accept loss and didn't get mad about it.

He was distracted when an impossibly tall woman came from the stands, holding a laurel wreath.

For some reason, Thorne found himself disappointed that it wasn't the girl from before, but he bowed his head as she placed it atop his crown.

"Your name?" The woman asked.

"Thorne," He said.

"Thorne," The woman pronounced. "Apollo had blessed you on this day of celebration."

Thorne thought he was blessed everyday, but he couldn't help but agree that on this particular day the blessings were overly strong.

"Thank you," He said.

"Who is the owner of the horse?" She asked.

"Dimitrius." He said. "Of Thessaloniki."

"Tell him he must be rewarded, the both of you."

Then she grabbed his arm and pulled it up, and the crowd started to cheer.

* * *

After the ceremony of his win, he went back to the stables, returning Rapuncium to Dimitrios.

He tried to return the helmet to him too, but he waved his hand, telling him to keep it. If he decided to compete in any more chariot races, it would come in handy.

He pulled out the pouch of drachmas, and handed it to him, Thorne pocketed it without a word, thinking of what he was going to spend it on later.

"The priestess told me to give this to you as well," He held out a second laurel wreath, which Dimitrios took. Instead of putting it on his head, he put it gently into his woolen sack, pulling at the drawstrings and heaving it on his back.

"I will give it to my daughter,"

"Oh," He said. "But it was your horse-"

"We raised it together."

Thorne frowned. He followed Dimitrios as they made their way out of the stables. There were other disgruntled racers, who glared at them as they walked past. Thorne figured they would forget all about their loss after the banquet.

They walked a little while, the wreath still placed on Thorne's head, showing everyone his feat. His skill with the chariot.

"Is she married?"

"Who?" Dimitrios asked.

"Your daughter," Thorne clarified.

"Oh, no. I'm not ready to let her go so soon."

What a strange man, his father always said that if he had any daughters, the first thing he would do was set them up to be married as soon as possible. "Don't you have any sons?"

"No, my wife cannot bear sons."

Thorne felt for the poor woman. Imagine having no sons. No boys to educate, or to take under an apprenticeship. What a boring life the man must have had with only a daughter.

"It's not so bad," Dimtrios said, as if hearing his thoughts. "I was upset at first, of course. But I realised not long after that everything a son could do, a daughter could do just as well."

"What do you mean?" His entire perception of women were tending to the home, bearing children.

"I've raised my daughter like a father would a son. I taught her everything I know, and her mother taught her everything she knows. She has both the strengths of a man and a woman, something that not many other woman could say, nor man, for that matter."

"She must have grown into an old maid, then." Thorne muttered.

"On the contrary, she's sixteen years old and very beautiful." He said.

Thorne flushed, not meaning for him to hear that last comment, and refrained from saying that all fathers thought that their daughters were beautiful, especially when they were of marrying age and talking to an unmarried man.

He followed Dimitrios the same way he went the way to the temple of Apollo in the morning, expecting to turn towards the valley nearby, but Dimitrios just started walking up the temple.

"Is she the Pythia?" Thorne asked. He had seen the Pythia – the Oracle – once, she was very pretty.

Dimitrios laughed. "Of course not," He pointed with his finger. "Look, there she is. The blonde one."

Thorne followed his finger to see the very same girl who had taken his offering before. Since the chariot races, mostly everyone had finished giving their offerings, and the girl and a friend were doing a dance, each holding length of silken cloth.

Someone was singing as well, a hymn to Apollo, and it took Thorne a moment to realise that it was the girl. Her song was interrupted by joyful peals of carefree laughter from the other girl as they avoided stepping on each others toes.

The girl spun around with with the cloth in the air, creating a spiral.

"She _is_ beautiful," Thorne commented.

They waited until they had finished the song and dance, and the girl made her way to her father, throwing her arms around him in an embrace.

"Papa, did you like my song?" She asked him when she pulled away from him.

"I loved it, and I'm sure Apollo loved it too,"

She beamed at him. Her eyes flickered towards Thorne. "Hello, again." She said, her eyes brushed over the top of his head, looking at the wreath.

Dimitrios grabbed him round his shoulder. "This is Thorne, he was the one who raced Rapuncium."

"Wonderful," She clasped her hands together. "I knew she'd be victorious. She always seems to know what you want before you even ask her to, doesn't she?"

It registered in Thorne's mind that for her to notice that, she would have had to ride it, as well. He didn't know why, but he thought that by that knowledge, the had shared something intimate, even though he knew that there was nothing so special to take from two people riding the same horse.

"Yes," He said. "I noticed that."

"We raise the best racing horses."

"So I've heard," Thorne said. He smiled at her.

Dimitrios cleared his throat, looking at Thorne sternly. Thorne looked at him back, wondering if he said anything that would upset her father.

"Did you have a good time with the priestesses?" Dimitrios asked, returning his gaze to his daughter.

She nodded eagerly. "And I saw the Pythia! She's amazing. She told me that Aphrodite smiles fondly upon me,"

Thorne glanced at her, but he noticed the stiffening of Dimitrios's shoulders.

Dimitrios grumbled. "Does she now? So, I take it that becoming a priestess is out of the question?"

She laughed. "Just because you never want me to get married doesn't mean that I don't want to."

Her father bristled. "Even after everything I've taught you..." He said it with a stern voice, but Thorne heard the fondness in his tone.

"It's okay papa, I'll still be around even once I'm married."

Dimitrios reached out and ruffled her hair. "I know, I just don't want you to get married to someone who will treat you like a slave,"

She was about to say somehing, but the girl that she was dancing with came up to her and pulled on her arm, whirling her away for another dance.

Thorne's eyes followed her. He wondered how someone could raise a daughter to withstand the way the world would treat her, how to keep someone so fearless and joyful, and still maintain innocence in a world that preferred their women to be unseen and unheard.

"Do you have Spartan heritage?" Thorne asked.

Dimitrios shook his head. "Do you ask because I prefer to treat my daughter like a human being rather than an object only used to serve men?"

Thorne shrugged. "Well, I've just never heard of women being treated this way other than in Sparta."

"Well, I must admit, they do have the right idea, allowing their women to have more rights than their Athenian counterparts."

"You don't like the Athenian way?" Thorne asked.

"I just find it ironic how a city that controls most of Greece is named after a goddess and yet does nothing for the rights of anyone who was born a female."

"Did you always think like this?"

Dimitrios sighed. "After realising that you can't have a son to carry on the family name, I realised that all of this worth we place on men is completely unfounded. Why shouldn't a woman be able to do the things man can do?"

Thorne was silent. His father had always said that a woman's place was in the home, and everywhere around him, that was what he saw, or didn't see. He never saw other women around, unless they were slaves running errands or the priestesses at various temples. He always wondered if women got bored in the house all day, he knew that whenever he was bed-bound with a sickness he was always itching to go outside. He guessed that feeling must have been a thousand times worse for women who only were allowed outside very rarely.

"Oh," he said. "I never thought about it that way."

"Not many people do, it's the norm."

Thorne's eyes trailed from Dimitrios' to his daughter's, then back to him. "What is your daughter's name?"

He looked at his daughter with fondness. "Crescent Moon. Cress for short."

Odd name. Fitting for an odd father and an odd daughter.

* * *

During the feast, Thorne sat with his father. His mother was at home, and they would bring some meat home for her, a piece of the feast for her to enjoy.

There was a large platform where people were performing their art, whether it be in a song, poem or dance, in tribute to Apollo. All of the performers so far had been men.

After his conversation with Dimitrios, he hadn't been able to stop noticing how everyone around him were men, apart from the slaves and maidens served them without a word, filling their clay plates with meat and vegetables, and topping their goblets off with beer and wine.

Thorne kept an eye out for Dimitrios, trying to see if he was seated at the long communal table, but he couldn't see him. There were no women seated at the table, of course, it was barred. But that didn't stop him scanning the faces of the women who served him.

His father noticed this. "Finally on a look-out for a bed-mate?"

Thorne coughed into his goblet, and set it down on the table. "I've had plenty of bed-mates."

"I know, we've heard every one." He clapped Thorne hard on his back with a chuckle.

Thorne shrugged, deciding not to comment that his father and his mother were not that quiet in the bedroom either.

"So what are you on the look out for, if not for that?"

"Nothing," Thorne mumbled, piercing a slice of beef with a fork.

"A wife, then?" His father asked eagerly.

"I'm not really sure I want to be tied down so soon."

"Tied down!" His father chuckled. "Why, there's nothing stopping you from looking at other women even while married. I do it all the time."

Thorne had heard _them,_ too.

"I just think that marriage is an odd tradition." His father looked sharply at him. "It's served in public happiness, but who is really happy? Neither the wife, nor the husband. That's why you're always taking new lovers and mother is always moping."

His father's hand tightened around his knife as he was sawing his chicken. "We marry to continue the family, that's why you need a son to continue it on, too."

"And if I have a daughter? What then? Give her to the first man who wants her after her first bleed?"

"Then you make sure you have a son."

"What if it's impossible? Why does it have to be the man who has the freedom to marry but not the daughter?"

"Because that's the way things _are_."" His father raised his voice. "And you'd best not forget that,"

Thorne sensed the end of the conversation, and turned back to his plate, but he no longer had an appetite.

It wasn't right that this was the way things were. It wasn't right that he always heard the incredible feats of men. Of Theseus and the minotaur. Herakles and his labours, or Perseus and the gorgon Medusa, but any tales of women were rare and hardly repeated, and always ended in marriage.

He found himself pondering Dimitrios and Cress's way of life. How could he have brought up a daughter in a world that meant to tear her down from birth?

Was that why there were so many female infants exposed, so they wouldn't have to rear one in a society that hated them? Or was it just because males were preferred, and that was that?

Still, there wasn't exactly freedom for him, either. His father would expect him to marry. If he didn't, how would he continue the blood of their family with a legitimate child?

He turned away from his father, to the platform, where a duo of men were performing a dance with a lot of jumps and high kicks in the air. He wasn't exactly sure what story they were supposed to be portraying, which part of Apollo's history, but he had to admit that the way the two men were concentrating, how they both danced as if they had done it since birth... it was was entrancing.

They finished their dance, amid a smattering of applause. There was a few moments as the next performer got sorted out, and then she made her way on to the stage.

He recognised her immediately. Dimitrios' daughter. Cress.

She had changed into a new chiton with golden and blue embroidery in a pattern of the sun and the sky, and her hair had been recently combed, but was still hanging loose past her waist.

Her appearance didn't just catch the attention of Thorne. She had the attention of everyone who could see her. She had been the first female performer yet, and judging by how late the night was getting, probably the last one too.

There were a few hoots and whistles from the men, which she ignored. Usually, he would've been one of those men. She waited until everyone had settled down, before she started to sing.

It was evident to everyone listening that she _must have_ been blessed by Apollo, because that voice seemed like one that only the god of music could mimic.

Her voice commanded the attention of everyone there, and she began to play a tune on her lyre as well, a melody to accompany the ethereal sound of her voice.

Her song was one that told the story of Apollo, from his birth with his twin sister Artemis, to all the heroic feats he did, battling Python. His quarrel with Orion. His loves. Her words painted an image, an art form, and a breath of life.

When the song was over, he found himself wanting more.

He watched her get off the podium, and leave the banquet.

Thorne stood up abruptly. His father looked at him.

"I need to use the latrine." He said quickly, and then he got up and followed Cress out of the feast.

He saw her a few steps away and jogged to catch up to her.

She noticed his presence behind her and she turned around, a frown at first, but recognition when she realized it was him.

"Oh, hi." She said.

Thorne smiled at her. "That was lovely singing."

She bowed her head. "Thank you."

"Are you favored by him?" He asked.

"Who?"

"Apollo."

She laughed a little. "I don't know about that. He has given me a gift in my voice, and I intend to use it."

And what a wonderful gift that was.

"Where is your father?" He asked.

"He is getting ready to leave. I'm going back to him now."

"You're leaving?" He asked.

"We have to get back to Thessaloniki in two days time."

"Oh,"For some reason, he found himself disappointed after hearing that. He wasn't sure why. "Well, I hope you find the time to visit soon enough."

Cress looked up at him with a smile. "I will. It's lovely here."

She looked up at the night sky. The huge waning moon overhead. The glittering constellations.

He followed her gaze upwards. She seemed so entranced by it, her mouth slightly ajar.

"Do you know the constellations?" He asked her.

She nodded. "Every single one."

"Where did you learn?"

"I read astronomer's scripts. I learned to match their descriptions to the night sky. It's not that hard once you figure out how," She said. She pointed her hand up. "There's Andromeda there, and that one's Pisces."

Thorne followed where she was pointing, but only saw glittering jewels in the sky.

"I don't see it."

"It takes a while to learn. But it's a useful skill for navigation."

He looked down at her. She only reached to his collarbone, and he could see a light smattering of freckles on her nose.

She looked at him, letting her hand rest to her side. She smiled, and turned her head away, but she had a light flush that he could just see in the moonlight.

Something in his chest raced.

They had reached a horse-drawn carriage. He noticed Rapuncium strapped in, along with another horse. Dimitrios was there, too, hauling sacks into the carriage.

Cress ran over and greeted him. He gave her a kiss on the temple. He noticed Thorne there, once she pointed him out.

"Need any help?" He asked Dimitrios, looking at the amount of sacks they had brought with them. He wondered why they weren't traveling light, as was wont to do when going long distances. He figured the reason they weren't going by boat was because it would have spooked the horses.

He nodded as a way of greeting. "Thank you. Just those bags over there," He indicated.

Thorne reached over and helped him haul the sacks into the carriage, as Cress climbed into one of the seats, setting the bags on top of the other so that there was more space between her feet for the ride home.

"What are you taking back to Thessaloniki?" Thorne asked, lifting the last sack to Cress.

"Clothes, shoes. Cress wanted some materials to give to the blacksmith so she could make her something special for her astronomy."

"Like what?" Thorne asked.

"Only Zeus knows." Dimitrios chuckled. He climbed into the carriage. "But she says it will help her see the stars better."

Dimitrios grabbed the reins of the horses, and Thorne realised that they were intending to depart _now._

He stepped back. "I hope Hermes sees you have safe travels,"

"Thank you," Dimitrios said.

Cress brought a smaller sack onto her lap and started rummaging for something. When she brought it out, he realized it was the laurel wreath he had won. She placed it on her head.

"I hope we meet again." She said.

"The Morai will see that we do." Thorne said.

And then Dimitrios tugged on the reins, and they were off.


End file.
